


Owned

by Idishi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Conditioning, Dubious Consent, Immortality, M/M, Master/Slave, Post-War, Psychology, Punishment, Stockholm Syndrome, Voldemort Wins, learned helplessness, slight BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 15:16:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5875801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idishi/pseuds/Idishi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry knows who owns all of him. Mind, heart,  body and soul. For all eternity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Owned

**Author's Note:**

> All characters belong to the Harry Potter Universe and is owned exclusively by JK Rowling, as well as Bloomsbury and Scholastic. I neither own nor profit from this work of fiction, and it is merely for entertainment and fangirl purposes :)
> 
> This theme/concept is pretty common in the fanfic world, but I just had to write this out so that my little plot bunny would stop bugging me :)

The chains were the right length to keep him just on his toes, leather cuffs biting into his wrists and ankles.

Bent over at the waist, Harry was painfully reminded of his new lowly station in life. Of course, his Master had probably meant to do it on purpose. Suspending one's slave was one way of ensuring their obedience, no matter how reluctant. It had been only two days, but Harry was already convinced.

The creak of old hinges caught Harry's attention, making him turn his head toward the sound. The blindfold prevented him from seeing anything or anyone, but the slow careful steps and the smooth swishing of a robe against stone told him where the man was , and Harry followed the sounds of movement like a snake swaying to a charmer's song.

He knew that his visitor would not speak until Harry had said the words. He knew that his punishment would keep up if he couldn't swallow his pride. There wasn't really anything for Harry to live for now, but he didn't want to die either. He felt weak-willed and spineless. Not at all the hero he had been touted to be. Loath as he was to say the words out loud, he was tired. So tired.

"I'm sorry, Master," he whispered, feeling the flush of humiliation heat up his naked body. He could feel desperation oozing from his pores. "I'm sorry, Master...I'm sorry, Master... "

He felt cool fingertips on his face, slowly moving from his cheek and down to his chin. It was such a light caress, a reprieve from his loneliness, and Harry found himself leaning into the touch. He hated that he welcomed it. He didn't think two days of isolation could do that, but then again, his Master had been training him thoroughly this past month.

 

***

 

Master Voldemort had claimed him as his prize from the Second War, immediately taking him to Riddle Manor. Harry had raged for weeks, trapped in a dank dungeon, shouting curses at his enemies until he lost his voice along with all his hope. And then he had just kept silent, ignoring food and drink in the hopes of wasting away forever in the dark.

He had expected Voldemort to torture him, and he wasn't disappointed. He was whipped and beaten and pushed to his limit. For three weeks he was kept in a constant state of pain and misery, which did nothing to quell the determination in his heart. He was a Gryffindor through and through, and he kept on fighting even when he was too weak to do it outside of his own head.

But then Voldemort had come to him one day to tell him the pain would stop. And it did.

Harry was kept in his cell, still given food and drink, but no longer tortured. For days he sat in solitude, wondering when Voldemort would come to taunt him once again.

After the tenth day, Harry began to be fearful for his fate. No one came to see him, not even to punish him for his existence. No one spoke to him, and he saw nothing but the trays that were left for him and retrieved when he was done.

Many weeks passed, and he lost count of the days. He was already going stir crazy. He was a prisoner, but ignored. He was the mortal enemy of his captor, but he wasn't punished. He was the hero of the wizarding world, but no one came for him. He was forgotten.

And Harry became more fearful of death that he ever was. Dying a martyr in the midst of battle was nothing. Dying a tortured hero in the clutches of the enemy was nothing. But this fate, of fading away into black obscurity, filled him with so much fear that he realized he didn't want to walk willingly to his death.

It was then that Voldemort came to him. He didn't say anything as he moved to where Harry had been crying, almost driven mad by his imprisonment.

"Please don't kill me..." Harry knew his voice was more a piteous moan than a proper request, but he was so scared that Voldemort had come to finish him off. "Please, I don't want to die, please please please don't... "

  
"Shhhh, don't cry my pet," Voldemort's slick voice murmured. Harry turned his tear streaked face towards the pale snakelike man towering before him.

"What-"

"You say you don't want to die. What I offer you is the extent of my generosity. The only price to pay is that... You will be _mine_." His voice slithered over like a Lethifold, smooth and smothering like oil.

Harry knew he should be insulted. Angry. But the fight had gone out of him, and he cowered into himself like the small child he used to be in the cupboard under the stairs. "No... that's...I can't!" he managed petulantly.

He expected to be beaten for his audacity, but Voldemort surprised him by coming closer and wrapping him in an unexpected embrace. Harry knew something was wrong when he found himself comforted after his long isolation. No one had held him like this since... Since when? And who had hugged him? He couldn't quite remember. All he knew was that he was supposed to be disgusted, and yet... he was not.

"You see, Harry?" the man murmured against his ear. "Be mine, and regret no more. You will live and be under my protection. "

Harry shook his head in defiance, but he was so weak he had barely moved.  
  
The red eyes narrowed dangerously into slits. "Say it. Be mine, little pet."

Still no response, but Harry could barely stifle the whimper that threatened to escape his parched throat. His enemy was unimpressed.

"You will call me your Master eventually, Harry. You'll be begging for me, wanting my attention before you know it. Just one month should be sufficient to train you up nicely. And you will love every minute of it."

He was dragged to a standing position and a chained collar clasped around his neck. The leash pulled Harry against his will, but he was so trapped in his head that he couldn't even face his own humiliation.

Being properly collared and leashed was only the first of many, many lessons he learned that month.

 

***

 

The last two days were punishment for Harry having spoken out of turn. He had been such a good pet to Master, but sometimes he just couldn't keep his words to himself.

Master took down the chains supporting Harry's hips first, and the instant sigh of relief was so loud that the man chuckled. The chains supporting the arms came down next, followed by the ones holding the chest.

"You seem to have learned your lesson well, pet," Master murmurred smoothly, running his long fingers along Harry's painful joints, making him wince slightly. "Perhaps you won't attempt to make the same mistake, hm?"

"Yes, Master," Harry whispered with sincerity. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." his voice trembled with fear. His weak body tried to move closer to the man holding him, which earned an amused laugh.

"I have to admit, I'd be terribly bored if all of that foolish Gryffindor brashness were gone... Perhaps I have punished you too hard."

Harry looked up into the red eyes of his owner. There was no other way to see it. This snakelike man owned his body, heart, mind and soul. "I deserved it," he said, lowering his eyes and staring at the floor in shame. His actions only seemed to please his Master, who used a cold, white finger to lift Harry's chin up so that they were once again eye-to-eye.

"I think you have learned well enough over the last few weeks, my pet. I'm sure you won't be earning my displeasure again, bright young thing you are. Eager to please me, aren't you?"

Harry nodded as earnestly as he could, at least as much as his weakened state permitted. This seemed to be enough.

"Very well," Master said, and Harry felt movement. He was being brought somewhere.

Two days in darkness made the light beyond the dungeon's doorway too bright, so he squinted in discomfort and quickly covered his eyes with his sore hands. He leaned his head more into his Master's chest and reveled in the contact. He had deserved the punishment, he knew, he understood. He knew the Master only doled out pain and suffering and isolation when it was warranted.

He remembered little from his previous life. He only knew now, and what it meant to be here under his Master's care.

Harry knew it was hard at first, but as his Master laid him down on their bed and ran a hot bath for him, he found himself looking forward to the swift and fleeting touches, the cool kisses and the serpentine tongue in his mouth. He knew, then, that this was all he would want for the rest of his life.

And it would be a very long one, for now that they were together, neither could die while the other survived. It would be a very long life indeed.

As he was gently lowered into the water, he allowed his body to melt into the heat of it, and did not move when he felt Master settling behind him. Feeling the attention that had craved during his isolation, Harry closed his eyes and let his Master do as he wished.

And he silently promised himself that he would try harder, become even better. He would do everything in his power to show Master that he was a good pet, a very good pet indeed.

 

 


End file.
